Rendered Useless
by Locked. Loaded. and Waiting
Summary: Suffering from guilt and inner struggles in silence becomes even more disasterous for Hawkeye when Roy starts noticing her change. How much can Roy do when Riza doesn't want his help, and he doesn't know what the problem is?
1. Chapter 1

First FMA fic. Working with post-3rd lab incident in the manga series.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist.

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In order to maintain a superior level of combat excellence, the military requires all of their officers, both commissioned and enlisted, to be examined and evaluated. Just like State Alchemist Evaluations, these examinations can lead to demotion, or even expulsion from the military if performance isn't up to standards. Every single officer goes through a session of firearms examination with the military issued pistol in an effort to keep everyone in the service competent enough with the weapon to wield it when necessary. And after that evaluations are based on what type of training the individual was listed under during boot camp, military academy, and their on-job experiences.

* * *

Roy frowned at the first document on the large stack of files sitting on his desk. The memo was not offensive because it was the longest or most boring of the reports he had to look through and sign that day. It was simply one sheet of paper decorated with the military's insignia at the top with straightforward typewritten message.

_In order to maintain a superior level of combat excellence, the military requires all of their officers, both commissioned and enlisted to be examined and evaluated. To ensure the continuing success of our military's performance we require that the following subordinates under your command be released for Basic Evaluation as well as the following_

Sitting just below the generic paragraph in a secretary's neat script the bottom portion was filled out.

_First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye_

_Defensive/Offensive Sniper Evaluation_

_Unarmed Combat Evaluation_

Roy's frown turned into a partially disgusted sneer. The fact that his First Lieutenant was being evaluated today meant that she was automatically entitled the day off, which translated into five men lacking the self-discipline to get any of the hordes of paperwork done without Hawkeye's constant badgering. He had shut himself into his office to get away from four of the five afore-mentioned men. His subordinates had gotten into a heated discussion as to the best café to get a pastry from at the absolute lowest price; Roy finally had to slam his doors shut when frosting-to-jam ratios came into the discussion for fear for his sanity.

Roy sighed with frustration, the offensive memo had just become even more disturbing to his ease of mind because it was dated a week ago; the idea was that it would give Mustang time to let Hawkeye know and make arrangements for her absence. And of course the papers had gotten lost in the shuffle of papers that were 'less important a week ago' and were transferred into the pile that can be 'fashionably late' and went unnoticed until today.

Obviously the First Lieutenant, being the organized and collected person she always is, had placed it on to the top of Roy's work for the day before he had come into the office as a reminder before heading to the evaluation. By the time he came into the office, after a late breakfast, a secretary came walking in and tucked a portfolio underneath the memo as if to say "Oh, you do know about this then. That's good." and exited the room.

The portfolio contained two evaluation charts and some photographs of the targets and dummies that had suffered the wraith of Hawkeye's fire. He briefly skimmed the evaluation charts, reconfirming what he already knew; the evaluators literally referred to her handling with the rifle for both offensive and defensive use as perfect. He looked at the photos of dummies with distances ranging from practically in-your-face to unfathomably far, each cloth target with two bullet holes, one exactly where the heart would be on a live human, and one between the imaginary eyes and into the brain.

Another almost identical evaluation was tucked neatly into the folder for the Basic Evaluation using the military issued pistol. Once again the evaluators made note of superior marksmanship and handling of the firearm, ensuring her continued success in the service. Looking at the photos Roy noticed that all of the shots entered right around where they were supposed to, leaving several holes in the center ring of the bulls-eyes painted onto the head and torso of the paper human silhouettes.

Roy smiled for a moment, knowing what Hawkeye would say when handed the evaluation, claiming there was still room for improvement. She preferred her silver pistol that was always in the small of her back to the black semi-automatic the military required all officers to carry. The First Lieutenant favored her personal firearm for practical (if you could call it that) use, and claimed to not be used to the recoil and hindsight alignment on the military standard.

Roy remembered distinctly muttering that he wasn't used to any kind of gun whatsoever after asking Hawkeye while she was cleaning the barrel of the silver weapon. Roy was a terrific asset in combat because of his alchemy, but when given a pistol and told to fire everyone, his own men included, would duck for cover. With a small smile, Riza had promised the Colonel to show him how to shoot the damned thing sometime.

That left the Unarmed Combat Evaluation, which always took place late in the day so if anyone sustained any injuries during the test the rest of the evaluations would already be over with, no hard feelings. The first time Hawkeye's observation was scheduled while under Roy's direct command he had asked why a marksman of her skill would ever bother fighting unarmed. It made about as much sense as the Flame Alchemist strutting into battle without his array-clad gloves. He distinctly remembered her standing in front of his desk, before he had paid a visit to the Elrics in Risenbool, back when he was still a Major.

"_Permission to speak freely, sir?"_

"_Just answer the question." Hawkeye just stood there for a moment with her indifferent facial expression, then tipped her head slightly and glanced at the ground. Without losing her 'perfect soldier' disposition she had silently made it clear that she wouldn't not just answer the question. Roy sighed and scratched at his bangs, leaning back in his chair." Granted, Lieutenant."_

"_Thank you sir." She looked up with a shadow of a grin. "Then to be quite frank, it is really your fault sir."_

"_And how, pray tell," Roy slowly articulated each word, "is your enlistment in Unarmed Combat Evaluation **my** fault?"_

_Riza's hand dropped to Roy's desk and lightly brushed against his white gloves lying next to his desk lamp, "Because you are Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist." Her hand withdrew behind her where Roy knew she had fingered the silver pistol out of habit. "State Alchemists are valuable to the military, and the tend to be disliked by a lot of people. You probably know this, those silver pocket watches are trouble magnets." _

"_So I'm not as loved by the general populous, so what?" Roy snatched one of his gloves and pulled it on in one swift motion, holding his fingers in a snapping position with a cocky smile. "It's not like I can't take care of myself."_

"_I'm perfectly aware of your ability to fend for yourself, Colonel, and the military is aware of the abilities of their Alchemists. But I'm also aware of your ability to fend for yourself in the rain" Roy's hand slipped and his face fell. "The military requires that at least one of the officers under the direct jurisdiction of any State Alchemist has to be able to defend their superior under any and all circumstances." Hawkeye pulled her pistol out and released the clip into her hand, looking at it passively, "I wouldn't be much of a subordinate if I couldn't defend you because of something as trivial as an empty clip, would I?"_

So with nothing left to explain the evaluations came and went without problems. Never once was Hawkeye's performance recorded as anything less than satisfactory, and never once were they caught in a situation where the need to fight hand-to-hand was impending. So it was, in a way, forgotten completely until the next evaluation the following year.

Roy stuck everything back into the folder and looked at the rest of the formidable stack of documents on his desk. What were the odds of there being consequences to his fingers accidentally brushing against each other and the documents abruptly vanishing with a satisfying 'fwoosh'? A small voice nagged in the back of his head "You _know_ there will be hell to pay if you slack off." Getting frustrated with his conscience but still not willing to give into the day's responsibilities, Roy seized the evaluation results and marched out of the office, working hard on ignoring his underling's mindless arguments. If he planned on putting off work any longer he'd need some kind of decoy responsibility to at least feign work for the rest of the day.

"_Perhaps the new candidates for the State Alchemist position are still being tested. That's always a decent show." _Planning to discretely join the evaluators and offer his (perfectly candid, haha) opinion on the potentials, Roy walked toward the back courtyard guilt-free.

* * *

The drink had a very innocent smell, iced coffee… very strong iced coffee no doubt, but in no way did it reveal its potent contents. The main ingredient in the drink was an import from Aerugo, the country south of Amestris. Despite the lingering tensions between the countries, most bars with a large military customer group knew that the drink was highly coveted by those in the service for one very good reason.

Nicknamed "Java Venom", the liquid was a rich dark brown and was no doubt made by fermenting the coffee bean in some fashion or another; leaving the smell of coffee instead of liquor on the breath of the drinker. Military men would order rounds of the stuff during breaks on late-night shifts to forget about the work and to keep their superiors thinking they just went for a coffee beak. No brewery in Amestris could figure out just how the people of Aerugo pull it off, but the end product is a potent, heavy drink with a pleasant mocha flavor that faded into a warm burning in the mouth and throat.

One soldier sitting alone looked at the dark liquid blankly for a moment, swirled the ice cubes around, then tipped the last half of the glass into her mouth and set the glass down with a soft clink. She had ordered the drink with a touch of the local chocolate liquor with the idea of making the drink as enjoyable as possible. A 'comfort drink' in the eyes of the barman, the chocolate and the mocha blended sweetly and went down smooth. After a moment of still contemplation, she raised her glass and gently shook the glass in the air just so she got the barman's attention, but didn't seem vulgar.

The barman obliged the wordless gesture for a refill, used to the silence that accompanies drinkers of this type. After years pouring, mixing, and refusing drinks to customers, the fifty-something man had figured out all types of drinkers. There are regulars, who come as much for the ambience as for the drinks, drifters, who just are in need of the drink at the moment and wander in. and then there is the soldier, who comes to drown out their inner demons into a drunken oblivion for a moment's relief from whatever. This soldier was obviously drinking to get drunk, and it didn't take a lot to realize that the three drinks in the past half hour would catch up with the girl fast and hard, not to mention that the hangover would probably render her completely incompetent the next day.

Alcohol was an infrequent and unwelcome experience that she rarely 'indulged' in, however the dull burn in the back of her throat and throbbing nothingness that accompanied glass after glass stirred a morbid nostalgia within her. As much as she hated to admit it. She slowly finished the last drink, almost enjoying this one now that the first couple were beginning to make their presence known in her blood stream. Not that she was an alcoholic, or even a social drinker. Under normal circumstances she never ever touched alcohol, never able to understand the joy in having your senses deadened or the inevitable hangover the following morning. No, Riza Hawkeye was to smart, to practical for that.

Pulling enough out of her wallet to cover drinks and a generous tip and setting them on the counter, Hawkeye stands up slowly to get a feel for just how far gone she is. Satisfied that she still had enough sense to realize that she might be late, which would have its own consequences, she set out into the clear afternoon back towards Headquarters for one last little chore. Feeling the slow debilitation looming, she picks up her pace in hopes of outrunning it for just a while longer.

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There we go, chapter 1. I'm going to see how this goes before I post anything else. If you like it then speak up. Review. If you didn't like something, then you speak up too. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2.

Yes, I suppose I'll start getting to the plot right about now. I just think it's fun to keep readers on their toes, no?

….

Okay, clearly not.

Despite my infuriating tendancy to have long-winded intros to my stories, you guys still reviewed. Thanks so much for that!  
Reviews are the only way I know whether my stuff is worth the time I put into the process

And for those of you who read and didn't review and are thinking "what about that hit couter?"  
Well, people can still click on my story and not like it right?  
Actually, if you don't like it... then why not review (aka flame... constructively)?

The problem with this project is that I have most of the ideas plotted… But, recently I've been at school for 14 hours a day, 6 to 7 days a week. I'm really sorry this is taking a while, but I don't have time to type out the (often lengthy-ish) chapters at this moment.

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Exiting the doors that led to the center courtyard of the compound, Roy immediately knew he had stumbled onto something interesting. Officers of varying ranks, _but all of them inferior to me_, were clustered in small groups on the outer edges of the courtyard. Each one immediately snapped to attention, saluting Mustang and trying to cover varying degrees of apprehension in his presence. Waving it off without a second glance, Roy hid his sense of deep amusement. Having spent plenty of time with the military he knew exactly what was going on. Based on the way they were talking in hushed voices and the fact that they were concealing small handshakes and tallies on improvised scorecards, it was clear that there was betting among today's spectators. 

_Spectators to what? _Roy snaked his way between clusters of soldiers towards the back of the courtyard. Like most of the military, the courtyard was designed for practicality: in short, the massive, well-worn area wasn't exactly designed to be visually pleasing. As Roy came closer to the back of the courtyard, a circle of officers gathered around a roped-off arena came into view.

A table with three officers sat on the far side of the arena, discussing amongst themselves in hushed voices. Different forms and folders sat in neat piles along the table, and a coffee mug (with the State insignia on it, of course…) sat in front of each man. Benches of different officers were arranged in improvised bleachers behind them. Much to Roy's surprise, a good half of the men were sporting bandages, ice packs, and splints on their wrists or ankles.

Walking over to the table with the three older officers, Roy was greeted with an almost-welcoming smile from the Lieutenant General in the middle. Snapping to a quick salute, Roy took a quick look at the battered soldiers in back and was about to ask a question. But the General beat him to it.

"So I take it you came to see your subordinate's evaluation?" He lightly flicked one of the many folders, which he had casually pulled from the stacks of seemingly identical folios. Unable to answer the question without asking one himself, Roy elected to nod along. The General sitting on the left offered a vacant chair with a gesture, removing his feet from his improvised footrest. As Roy took the seat with vacant gratitude, a large shadow cast itself over most of the table.

The source of the shadow was a man that was clearly being molded to fill the space that Basque Gran had left with his death: pissy, built, and intimidating. A colonel like Roy, he was one of the few men at Central Headquarters (and probably in the entire military) that could look Major Armstrong in the eye and scare his sparkles away. Slamming an empty water canteen on the table with an aggravated sigh, he turned to the Lieutenant General, "Who's next?"

"That one, Colonel" Roy followed the General's pointed finger and his sight landed on a familiar salute, "a First Lieutenant."

"First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, reporting for combat evaluation." Her voice was distant, even more than usual. Roy tried to catch the eyes of his Lieutenant without making it obvious (from across the table, behind the three evaluators, and in twilight), but her muted gaze stayed just a few inches above the left shoulder of the General. _God, does she really hate these evaluations even more than I do?_ Before Mustang's thoughts could continue, a wheezy scoff exploded from the large colonel.

"A First Lieutenant, a _female_ First Lieutenant?" Taking one easy step over the rope fence into the ring, the Colonel gave a disgusted glare at Riza. Slowly releasing her salute, she unbuttoned her uniform jacket and shrugged it off onto the floor, which she proceeded to kick outside the arena, her boot leaving a deep scuffmark in the soil. Undoing the holster that she always had lashed around her torso, she hung the leather strap over one of the posts of the rope fence. Cracking her knuckles, she turned to face the mammoth Colonel, looking him up and down briefly.

"I'm sure you both know the rules to this type of evaluation, but we'll give you the shortened gist of it. We simply want a demonstration of your skills, First Lieutenant. Colonel Grimes should provide you with an opponent sufficient enough to accomplish that task." As the Lieutenant General went over the rules, most of the officers that had been staggered around the ring were now packed as close to the rope as possible, listening with great interest to the regulations. Some were even audibly comparing Riza and the evaluating Colonel. "Don't kill each other. We want to be impressed, not mortified."

Grimes let out an amused laugh, and a handful of the officers in the crowd cheered.

"You may begin." The General said over the excited drone of the spectators. And with that, Hawkeye was off. Covering the distance between her and Grimes in two bounding steps, she threw herself into the gut of the large General, her momentum sending the man tumbling onto his back with a loud thud. Landing on her feet in a low crouch, Hawkeye watched Grimes as he struggled to his feet, wheezing to regain his lost breath. As soon as he had propped himself onto his elbows, Riza's boot impacted on his upper chest solidly. The General was kicked into the air, landing on his side with a spluttering grunt.

The crowd exploded in shouts of approval and dismay, the betting results having already been made clear. Wads of cash were already being exchanged amongst the officers, completely disregarding the presence of the higher-ups across the ring.

Slowly walking over to the fallen Colonel, Hawkeye grabbed his wrist and spun him onto his stomach. Grimes immediately began to attempt break away, writhing in pain on the ground. Hawkeye, looking bored with his attempts to free himself, placed her foot solidly on his back, pressing the Colonel's face into the dirt and stretching his arm backwards. It didn't take a doctor to figure that an arm shouldn't bend that way.

"That's enough," The Lieutenant General said, marking down a few more notes on his review. "Most impressive, First Lieutenant. You can let the man go." Hawkeye complied, stepping away from the defeated Colonel and raising a slow salute, cheeks burning a bright red and breathing deeply. "You are dismissed."

Taking that as her cue, Hawkeye left Grimes on the ground. Ducking under the rope fence, she picked up her jacket and walked towards the exit, completely oblivious to Roy's stare.

"She's really something, isn't she?"

"What?" Roy returned to the present, turning to the General as he finished compiling the evaluation notes.

"First Lieutenant Hawkeye. Your subordinate, no?" The General asked, getting an affirming nod from the Lieutenant General at his side when Roy made no comment. Roy's mind began to slowly process the sentence, trying to recover from an overload of unbelievable input. _Yes, Roy. That was your by-the-book subordinate laying waste to that tank of a man. How about answering to the nice man talking to you now?_

"Truly remarkable. You just don't get young officers of that caliber any more. Hold onto that one as long as you can, Colonel." He turned to the retreating form of the Lieutenant in the dusk sunlight, "_She_ can help you get places." He handed over the manila folder with a fatherly grin.

"T-thank you, sir." Roy saluted quickly before turning to the holster that Hawkeye had left hanging over the post in the fence. _She's going to want that. Not that she really needs it…_Roy shuddered, and pulled out his silver pocket watch, checking the time. _It won't be dark for another half hour or so. I bet if I run I could catch up to her._ Grabbing the holster and tucking it under his arm with the evaluation folder, he set off at a light jog, leaving the courtyard behind.

* * *

It took Roy less than 10 minutes to catch up to Hawkeye. He rounded a corner and found her stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, head tipped up to catch the evening breeze on her face. The blue military jacket that he was so accustomed to seeing her wear was left unbuttoned, showing the maroon turtleneck t-shirt that seemed like a part of her constant attire. Her face was still flushed and a thin layer of perspiration remained on her forehead, despite the pleasantly cool evening. 

"First Lieutenant, you forgot-" As Roy called to her as he approached her, Hawkeye turned to face him, lost her balance and fell into the surprised Mustang's arms. The evaluation and holster fell to the ground by their feet. Feeling his own face flush in the sudden close proximity to his female Lieutenant, Roy caught the faint scent of coffee and frowned quizzically.

"Oh, sorry, Sir. I didn't mean to-" She immediately pushed herself away from Roy's arms, trying to steady herself on shaky legs. Looking like she would collapse again, Roy grabbed her firmly by her arms and peered at her face, bringing his face close to hers. The smell of coffee lingered, barely noticeable but foreign. The First Lieutenant was never seen drinking coffee, only tea. Her bleary eyes pointedly avoided Roy's own.

A thought occurred to Roy: _Java Venom… I love that stuff. Good, strong drink_. Looking at Hawkeye for a moment another thought clicked into place as she winced at the sudden honking of a car horn that wasn't really loud, and blinked painfully in the headlights that weren't that bright. "You're kidding right?" Roy backed up and looked at his subordinate in shock. "You are _so drunk_!"

Having recovered from the passing car, Riza looked to Roy and quite simply said, "Right, and I _definitely _got this miserably smashed for shits'n'giggles," she brushed Roy's hands from her arms with her own sweaty palms, and added, "You're one to talk…Sir!" almost as if mocking him. "Why're you here, anyways?"

"You forgot your holster." He said, retrieving the fallen article along with the evaluation from the ground. Despite being clearly wasted, Riza still managed a skeptical glare as she took the holster from Roy's hands and slung it over her shoulder, not bothering to put it back on. "I… came to deliver your evaluation results?" He offered, trying to offer a reason to satisfy his drunken subordinate. "Aw, hell, Lieutenant, why do I have to justify _my_ actions to you? I'm your superior, and _you_ are the one who showed up to an evaluation heavily intoxicated!"

"Clearly it wasn't too much of an issue, if you're just noticing now… Sir!" She was surprisingly coherent for a drunken person being antagonized on her way home. Roy found himself wondering how he became such a boisterous asshole when he was drunk, but his Lieutenant managed to keep… most of her composure. "If that's all then I'll be taking my leave, Sir." She turned to leave, wobbled slightly, and got her foot caught on a crack in the pavement. Grabbing her shoulders to prevent her from falling again, Roy took a deep breath.

"No, that's _not_ all," He stepped to her left side and ducked under her arm, letting it drape across his shoulders. Wrapping his right arm around her waist and pulling her close, he stood up straight, pulling Hawkeye up with him. "I'm walking you home, Lieutenant."

"I… do not… need an escort, Colonel Mustang!"

"Like hell you don't. That's a direct order from your superior officer." And without waiting for her to respond he began to walk, marching Hawkeye along with him. After a moment of silent rage, he turned to look at her. Riza's face was screwed into an indignant scowl, her cheeks still red. But it was clear that she was appreciating the physical support, whether she wanted it or not; each of her paces were heavy and Roy would feel her lean on his shoulder slightly with each step.

A few blocks passed in silence, Riza's scowl replaced with an embarrassed expression, turned away from Roy. Trying to break the silence, and slightly curious as to how she was feeling, Roy ventured to start a conversation. "I guess we can count this towards all the times you've played 'designated driver' for me and Hughes, right?"

"This isn't your job."

"Oh, and babysitting your drunken superior was a part of the job description when you enlisted?" She let out a hesitant laugh, causing Roy to grin. "So tell me, am I going to have to get you completely wasted if I want to have a casual conversation with you, or even, _God forbid_, get a laugh out of you now?"

"Casual conversation most definitely _wasn't _in my job description."

"Drunk and still a stickler for rules. That's my Lieutenant." They stopped at a crosswalk, giving Roy a chance to shift his grip on the evaluation. "So, would you prefer to talk about work? How about this one: why did you get drunk before an evaluation?"

"That is none of you business, sir." She said quietly, looking at the door that they stopped in front of, the entrance to her apartment building. Roy gave her a concerned glance before opening the door and stepping inside with her, deciding to let it go for the moment.

"I've never been so grateful for an elevator in my entire life." Roy sighed, pushing the up button several times. A metallic ding resounded from the elevator, and the doors hissed open. The pair walked into the elevator and both leaned their backs against the wall farthest from the doors. "I really think we ought to talk about this." He tried again, attempting to break through the emotional barriers that he had never seen break. The emotional barriers that had become so unnaturally rigid ever since the evening at the 3rd laboratory.

"Honestly, do you think that I'm in any condition to discuss anything with anybody right now?" Riza sighed, tipping her head back and taking a deep breath. Her hand ran along the floor buttons, counting in her head, until she landed on her floor number and pushed it. After a few silent moments riding up the building, the doors opened to a hallway of off-white walls and brown doors stretching in either direction.

Roy immediately offered his arm, the way he would offer the crook of his elbow for a date he was escorting out of a fancy restaurant. Too out of it to care anymore, Hawkeye took the offered help, linking her arm into his. Taking a left turn and walking down the hall to one of the many identical doors, they finally came to a stop.

Pulling her key ring out of her pocket and extracting roughly a dozen or so keys, Hawkeye mumbled incoherently, but clearly frustrated with the number of keys and the fact that they 'kept moving'. After a minute of waiting, she grabbed one from the rest, triumphantly. "There has to be a better way to keep all these…" She thought out loud, and went with the key for the doorknob with unsteady hands.

"Here," Roy wrapped his hand around her wrist, helping guide the key into the keyhole and twisting until a satisfying 'click' came from the knob.

Pulling the key out and looking at Roy with her head cocked to the side, Hawkeye asked, "So, you coming in?"

Roy blinked, waiting for her to indicate if that was a joke, or for her to pass out, or throw up, or _something_ that would help him figure out how he was supposed to respond, what she wanted to hear from him. Deciding that she clearly was in no position to have any deep, manipulative thoughts behind her actions, he decided to go with his initial response.

"It would make me feel better…"

Hawkeye smiled softly, pushing the door open and waving him in, slowly but gracefully.

_Guess that was the ansewer she wanted to hear._ Roy thought, taking Hawkeye's arm and ushering her inside.

* * *

Okay, so it was delayed, but it was longer than chapter 1… 

Not really sure if that makes up for it but it's the best I can do.

I'm doing some college tours, so I won't be back for a few days, and I want reviews when I get back. In return I can have the next chapter up within 7 days.

Please and Thank You


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, so Spring Break was… not entirely refreshing due to work, but I'll take it over school any day. School again means to you, my dear readers, that my day just increased to 11-12 hours at school regularly… Updates will be erratic. Thanks for putting up with my time crisis.

Your reviews honestly make it worth my time. And a lot of you guys have stuff that I enjoy and have been reading for a while, coincidently. You might see my review popping up sometime on your stuff.

* * *

Disclaimer: BECAUSE I don't own FMA, I can change little, irrelevant-to-the-plot details in the manga plot at whim! Yay!

* * *

Even in her current state, Hawkeye's actions clearly switched into a routine-like feel, which Roy picked up on immediately. Leaning on the door for support, she unlaced her boots with two quick tugs at the strings and kicked them off lightly. Hayate trotted over and gave a welcoming bark to his master, then proceeding to sniff at Roy's foot. They landed next to an umbrella rack in the corner containing 2 umbrellas, a cane, and a pair of crutches. Tossing the keys on a nearby counter, she slowly walked into the apartment, Hayate trotting along at her feet, occasionally yipping exuberantly. Hawkeye's hand brushed along a light switch as she walked, flipping the lights on in the apartment.

The lights clicked on, bringing the dark apartment into focus for Roy's eyes. The entryway led into an open living room area with a couch, coffee table, and overstuffed chair, all of which had probably seen quite a few years despite the frequent transfers. Only the large, leather cushioned chair seemed to be regularly used, a blanket and book resting haphazardly on the armrest as if left there in a rush to leave. Boxes sat around the floor in clusters, clearly to keep them out of regular paths around the apartment. Many looked unopened, probably a factor of the long hours she's spent working since the transfer. The walls, which at first seemed to be a gray, were actually a creamy white, while both the couch and the easy chair were a deep blue.

The sound of rummaging from his left caught Roy's attention. He turned to see Hawkeye with a large pitcher of water and 2 glasses. Hayate was on the floor next to her with a drumstick in his mouth, already taken care of. The kitchenette she stood in was separated from the living room area by an entryway and a countertop built into the wall, giving a full view of the living room from the cooking area. The counter had 2 wooden stools on the side in the living room area, the wide counter clearly functioning as a table. Riza was seated at the counter inside the kitchen, filling her glass with water. "Going to sit down, or do you just want to stand there awkwardly?"

Pulling out a stool and sitting across from Hawkeye, Roy's brain suddenly began to analyze the current situation from a logical standpoint. _You are in your subordinate's house late at night. She is very, very drunk and clearly not thinking straight. You need to be the adult here and take control of the situation._ But realistically, it was indeed First Lieutenant Hawkeye, and not some alcohol-crazed airhead. There was no guarantee things had gotten out of hand.

_I wonder…_"You know, usually when it's late at night and I'm at a girl's apartment and she's this drunk, we would have already gotten through the tour up to the bedroom." Roy said, waiting for her response.

Riza had already finished a full glass of water and was working on the remainder of the second before she responded; "My holster is within close range, Sir, for you information." A muted, but playful smile appeared on her face, before disappearing behind her glass as she downed the rest of the liquid and poured herself another glass.

"Relax, I'm not here to take advantage of you, Lieutenant," Roy said, reaching for the pitcher and pouring himself half a glass of water, giving his hands something to do. "Planning on drowning the alcohol?"

"Planning on keeping this looming hangover as manageable as possible." She was on her fourth glass now, clearly not thirsty at all. Finishing the remainder of the glass, she set the cup on the counter with a clink. Folding her arms on the counter, her head fell forward onto the improvised pillow. "I can't believe we have to be at the office in less than 10 hours…" she said with a light moan.

"Oh, damn, we do," Roy cursed. "I'm sorry Lieutenant."

"For what?" Her voice, muffled by her arms, sounded exceedingly helpless, in a childlike manner.

"You're going to be miserable tomorrow," Roy said, walking around the counter and taking both glasses to the sink. Refilling the pitcher with water and placing it in the refrigerator. Coming up beside her, Roy lightly placed a hand on Riza's shoulder. She twitched in surprise, otherwise unmoving. Roy began to lightly rub his thumb up and down the back of her neck, well aware of the agonizing headaches and various other discomforts that came from heavy drinking. he felt her muscles loosen under his touch, feeling better that he could offer some minor comfort.

"Don't com to the office tomorrow, Hawkeye."

She brought her head up quickly, then realized what a mistake that was, closing her eyes tightly and waiting for the room to stop spinning. "No, I was the one who got myself like this on a work night, and I can't just not show up because I made an error in judgment," She said through clenched teeth. Still struggling with her dizziness, she had covered her eyes with her hand lightly, her thumb and ring finger working her temples.

"Hawkeye, if you're like this now, what's tomorrow going to be like?" Roy asked firmly. Looking like she wanted to argue some mere, Roy took her hand away from her face and lightly placed his own palm on her warm cheek. Her eyes opened, meeting his gaze as Roy continued, "Nobody has to know why you're out. You've been working non-stop since the transfer. Do yourself a favor, Lieutenant."

"I appreciate your… concern… Sir. But I know my own limitations. I know where my priorities are."

"'What' or 'Who' your priorities are, Hawkeye?" Roy demanded, getting frustrated. Hayate's ears twitched at the outburst, curling up into a different position on the floor.

Riza's eyes widened for a moment. Roy knelt down so his head was lower than hers, grabbing her hand firmly and looking her right in the eye.

"Who are your priorities to, Hawkeye?" He asked slowly, clearly. She looked at him for a moment then looked at his hand over hers and bit her lip slightly. Roy's gaze dropped as well. When he saw his hand, he knew exactly what she was looking at.

The back of his hand still bore the faint outline of an array. His array. Etched in blood on his own skin, a part of himself he couldn't deny. A constant. A remnant from his battle with Lust at the 3rd Laboratory. But what he truly couldn't shake from that day was a different constant, in some ways far more reliable than his array. Hawkeye was wearing the same expression on her face that Roy saw when he reprimanded her at the hospital.

"My priorities…" she said, barely whispering, "Lie where they belong."

Roy let go of her hand and stood up, giving both of them some greatly appreciated room. He watched her for a moment, trying to read past they layer of alcohol, and still running into the same layer of distance that he couldn't budge.

"All right. But if I see you over-exerting yourself in the slightest, I am sending you home immediately." She nodded slightly, gratefully. "My priorities are to my subordinates, and the people I care about." He sighed, shoulders sagging in the defeat he had accepted. Leaning closer to her once more he pleaded softly, "Let me care, Hawkeye."

But whether she heard or not Roy didn't know. She had started nodding off after Roy agreed, and was now sitting with her head dropped forward and her breathing deep. Leaning into his shoulder with a contended sigh, she had fallen asleep in the chair. Roy didn't even try to wake her, gently lifting her from the stool and hoisting her up bridal-style.

Roy carried her over to the couch and gently laid her down, puling the blanket from the easy chair and covering her silently. She immediately turned onto her side and curled up slightly under the blanket, burying her face into the blanket in the same way a child would to ward away the darkness in fear. Hayate trotted over, yawning, and jumped up onto the couch with Riza, curling up near her stomach and falling asleep again.

Folding her military jacket and placing it on the coffee table, Roy turned to leave. Stopping at the door with his hand on the knob, he looked back at the sleeping figure with a sorrow that had slowly been growing in his gut the entire evening. _You better not be like this because of me, Hawkeye. You can't get like this._

As he exited the apartment, making sure the door locked behind him, a voice called from somewhere in his mind.

_You know it's because of you. You know it and you can't stand it._

_Isn't that why you're upset?_

Roy shuddered to himself and began walking faster, trying to leave the voice of his own mind behind.

* * *

The entire chapter was shorter than other ones... but I hope it served it's pupous..  
Did it?

Okay, the end was slightly rushed for my personal taste…  
If I feel inclined I _might_ come back and rewrite some of this.

Or I might just work on the next chapter. Waiting patiently for your reviews. Thanks in advance.


	4. Chapter 4

Fourth quarter was kind of a bitch. School (specifically finals) effectively shut down all my outside-school activities. I apologies for the long delay, but summer's here. That should give me at least enough time to update this more than once every 3 months. I'm off to Cali for awhile next week, but I'll bet I can get out another 2 chapters in the next few days before I leave for vacation.

* * *

We're going to see other characters in this chapter!

I'll bet some of you are relieved to hear that, but some of you would prefer the exact opposite I suppose.

Well, seeing as this is my story, AND additional characters (no OC's will take any important roles, promise… in fact I doubt I'll have any, really) are necessary to advance my plot the way I intend. I'm not introducing an entirely new side-plot or anything. The focus of this fic is indeed Royai.

Disclaimer: If I owned FMA, then chapter 61 would already be out now, and it would be Royai-licious.

* * *

Hawkeye arrived a few minutes after Roy did the following morning, on time and looking only the slightest bit tired, at first glance. However it was clear that fatigue wasn't the only thing bothering her as she closed the door behind her. Approaching her desk with large strides that resounded loudly through the office, she sat in her chair with an audible huff and pulled a stack of documents closer to herself with a frown.

"Good morning, Lieutenant," Breda greeted, his tone of voice suggesting that he didn't think it was a good morning and he suspected that the Lieutenant agreed with him.

"Good morning, Breda," she responded without looking up from her reports, flipping through the large stack to get an idea of what she would be dealing with today. After glancing at everything, she muttered something about caffeine and made her way to the door. "Colonel?"

"Er, y-yes, Lieutenant?"

"The Elrics are due back in Central today, so you will need to make time for a meeting with Edward this afternoon." Riza said as stepped out into the hallway.

"Oh… yes. Of course, thank you, Lieutenant," Roy managed as the door closed behind her.

"Damnit, Colonel!"

Roy immediately felt several veins in his head throb, anticipating the following remarks, "_Yes_, Breda?" He seethed.

"Could that have been _any_ more awkward, or was that just me?" Breda demanded support from the rest of Roy's subordinates, immediately getting nods of agreement. "See? It wasn't just me!"

"Your _point_, Second Lieutenant?" Roy spat out the word 'point' with subdued frustration.

"What the hell is going on between you and the First Lieutenant? You two didn't-"

Before Breda could suggest anything, sexual or otherwise, between Mustang and Hawkeye, Roy slammed his fist down on his desk.

"Didn't _what_!" Roy's glare was effectively sinking Breda deep into his seat, only his quaking mess of red hair visible over his desk. "I suggest you all start on your work, or you'll be looking at the business end of a court marshal!"

"S-sir? Not doing paperwork isn't an offense that constitutes a court marshal," Fuery whimpered.

"Not following the orders of your superior commander is! Get to work!" Roy had worked himself up into such a fit that he was standing up, leaning over his desk with his hands clenching and unclenching. Several semi-important documents were crushed by his grip, causing Roy to get even more frustrated.

Just before he was driven into a raging hissy-fit, Riza walked into the room, effectively pushing all of Roy's self-pitying thoughts out of his head. She stopped at looked at the men working diligently (in a terrified rush), obviously confused by such an infrequent sight.

Roy was blitzing through a stack of documents with determination. _The sooner I get this done, the sooner I get off, the sooner she can go home._ He looked up between papers for a moment, watching Hawkeye begin her work lethargically. _I'm not making you play babysitter today, Lieutenant. Not today._

Lunch came and went uneventfully, Mustang's men were grateful for the moments reprieve from his dictator-like temperament. Roy found himself finishing everything that needing doing that day barely an hour after lunch. He hadn't done that since he started working, ever. Satisfied with his accomplishment, he started to slowly work on work ahead of the due date. Roy took the time to read Edward's report at his leisure, in its entirety (another first), looking for any flagrant expenses the boy had worked up or fiascos he could use for the impending vocal smack-down.

"Sir?" A soft voice pulled him out of Edward's report. He set the folder on his desk and looked at Hawkeye, wordlessly giving her admittance into his office.

"Do you need something?" he asked cautiously as she let the door close behind her, unsure of the nature of her visit.

"Permission to take a few hours leave, Sir?"

"Why? Are you feeling okay? If you aren't, then you have to go home. I don't care how stubborn you are. I can be just as –"

"Sir?" Hawkeye interrupted, massaging her temples lightly with one hand, "Permission to take a few hours leave," she stopped Roy's bombardment of questions with a glare, "to go to the shooting range?" She pulled out the evaluation he had left at her apartment the night before. "There are a few things I want to work on."

"Oh." Roy sat down, not entirely sure when he stood up in the first place. "Well if that's all then permission grant—

You're sure you're fine? I mean, why didn't you say so before I – well, I suppose I didn't let you finish – if you aren't fine then I want you resting." Roy stammered. His 'responsible colonel', 'caring friend', and 'damaged male ego' were all trying to be heard at once. _And I'm considered charismatic?_

"I'm fine, Sir. And besides, Edward is coming. I would prefer to not be around here when you two… _discuss business_, though I'm using the term 'discuss' very loosely."

"Lieutenant, are you suggesting that I lack the capacity to deal with Fullmetal like an adult?" Roy asked in a very business-like tone.

"I'm suggesting that _neither_ of you nor Edward have the capacity to hold a civilized conversation with each other," Hawkeye responded in an equally professional tone.

"That hurt, Lieutenant," Roy's voice was now laced with dramatic pain and insult, "Permission to leave granted."

"Thank you Sir," She saluted and left, leaving a mentally and physically exhausted Roy to his own thoughts.

Am I overreacting? She can take care of herself… 

_You know that that's not entirely true. That's why you're so worried._

Roy shuddered for a moment, vague images flashing through his mind. His Lieutenant falling before the Homunculus, alone. Empty rounds scattered across a floor wet with blood, still warm. All were merely figments of his imagination.

_But you didn't have these kind of thoughts **before**…_

This time his mind was plagued by memories of real events. Alphonse standing as the only thing between his Lieutenant and death in the massive underground paths. A death that she had accepted, even desired on some level?

Roy wrestled with his thoughts, oblivious to everything until Edward stormed into the room, not bothering to announce his arrival or ask permission to enter. Through the open door Roy caught a glimpse of Alphonse greeting everyone, apologizing on behalf of his brother's behavior.

"Good afternoon, Fullmetal."

"Eh, what's good about it?"

"Well, I have the privilege of spending some quality time with my favorite little subordinate."

"Oh, 'little' am I! And another thing, you don't have any right to claim authority over me!" Ed threw his weight down in a chair in front of Roy's desk with a huff, muttering about military dictatorship and hierarchy.

_Well, this will be fun_. Roy thought sarcastically, grabbing Ed's report up from his desk.

* * *

Yay, a little Ed humor. How refreshing. Next chapter we'll see more of Al. Reviews are fun… thanks for reading. Hopefully another chaper tomorrow... (i.e. today later than 1 AM) Worst case then the day after... so no matter what less than 24 hours tops, I promise! 


	5. Chapter 5

Here we go. The next 2 chapters including this one are (obviously, I hope) functioning as one entity just because they are happening at the same time.

Sorry it was a few hours late… it took a little longer than I thought to travel between 2 states last night.

(Nil & Ken… funny thing happened. I was finishing the last 2/3 of this chapter when I got your review thankyouthankyouSoooMuch!IloveYouForThem and saw you asking for more Hawkeye… funny coincidence, ne?

* * *

I continue to not own FMA.

* * *

Having given up on supervising Ed's behavior, Al instead volunteered to help Fuery carry some boxes of records to various offices and mailrooms. the errand done, Al found himself standing in a hallway that was practically empty. The clock ticking away on the wall indicated that it had barely been 15 minutes since their arrival at HQ. _I bet Ed and the Colonel aren't done arguing yet._ Al thought with a sigh.

Deciding that there would probably be something more to do back at Mustang's office than stand in a hallway alone, Al turned back the way he came. But right before he could take a single step he stopped, listening to the silence.

"Funny, I thought I heard-"

_pop_

Somewhere in this building, a gun was being fired. The sound was so muted that Al probably wouldn't have heard it if he wasn't alone in the hallway. His curiosity getting the better of him, Al turned in the general direction the noise had come from. As he slowly walked passed closed doors, two more shots were fired in succession, sounding more like firecrackers for children than a gunshot.

Al came to a door that was made of reinforced steel, unlike the rest of the wooden office doors in the hallway. Pushing the door open with some effort, Al walked into what he assumed was the shooting range. Booths separated by metal walls and all stocked with heavy-duty hearing protection in the form of black headphones. This time the shot was a full bang, echoing inside Al's helm for a moment. Only one person occupied the room, and was so focused on the task at hand that Al's entrance seemed to go unnoticed.

Al stopped near the door, watching Hawkeye take a deep breath and bring her arms up parallel to the ground. Her feet shifted apart, adjusting her stance and relaxing her shoulders. In that stance, Hawkeye appeared to be an unstoppable force to Al; a being with consistent control and unwavering resolve. Even as an alchemist with a body of metal, Al maintained a respectful fear of Hawkeye when she was armed.

"You can come closer if you want,"

Her arms tensed. Another shot cut through the silence, jerking her posture slightly out of alignment.

"It doesn't impair my concentration." The Lieutenant said with something close to a smirk, lowering her gun and finally turning to face Al. "I'm not used to the recoil on this gun anyway."

"Hello, First Lieutenant," Al greeted with a quick bow, which Hawkeye returned.

"Hello, Alphonse. I assume Ed's here for his report?"

"Yes, but you'd assume he was going to a public execution, the way he was going on about it," Al said with a chuckle as Hawkeye ejected the clip from her gun with a smile.

"I suppose that's just his way of expressing himself," The lieutenant said, picking up the evaluation folder from the counter in front of her and reading over certain pages that, Al noted, she had taken her own notes in. Al watched with curiosity as Hawkeye read over the evaluation, occasionally reading out loud under her breath. "What good is an evaluation that sings praises, but doesn't explicitly state areas of improvement? How is that useful?" She muttered to herself, setting the black pistol down with a sigh.

"You're too heard on yourself, Lieutenant," Al said, looking at the paper target, six holes in a tight clump in the center of the silhouette head. "You've got so much talent. Why not have a little satisfaction in that?"

"Because… I'm not good enough," Hawkeye murmured, pulling her silver pistol from its holster and holding it limply. Al turned away from the target and stared at the woman next to him.

"I literally did everything in my power to kill that Homunculus. Everything. And all that I could do amounted to nothing. I was reckless, overly emotional. I… I put myself in danger. And because of that I forced you into a dangerous situation, for my sake Al." Looking out toward the target with distant eyes, Hawkeye said quietly, "The only thing I'm doing is holding up everyone. The Colonel, you and Edward. If all I'm going to be is a burden, then I shouldn't tag along." She set the silver gun down next to the larger black pistol. "How insignificant this must seem from an alchemist's point of view," she laughed coldly.

"Stop it." Al said sharply, cutting Hawkeye off, "Just, just stop." Hawkeye looked at Al, watching his red eyes flicker with emotion "That's not fair, Lieutenant. What about all the lives you've saved? What about all the times you've protected the Colonel?" Al placed his large hand over the revolver and tightened his grip, "Don't tell me that you think all those lives you saved were insignificant, Lieutenant."

A silence fell over the two as Al removed his hand from the gun and backed up so he wasn't right next to Hawkeye anymore. She was slowly filling an empty clip with .22's from a small box, looking intently at the mechanism.

"That reminds me," Hawkeye suddenly said, snapping the clip into the pistol, pointing the barrel and her gaze beyond Al to the metal wall behind them. "I never did thank you, and apologies," Re-holstering both guns and grabbing her jacket from the floor behind her, Hawkeye turned to Al with a half smile. "You risked your life to save mine. I apologies for being a so useless at such a critical time, and I thank you. I wouldn't be here if you hadn't saved me." She bowed deeply, her bangs falling over her eyes.

"I'm glad that I could help," Al said brightly. Hawkeye straightened her posture and seemed to wrestle with her thoughts for a moment. Then, she quickly walked up to Al and cautiously wrapped one arm around his large chest, then the other. After a brief moment of initial shock, Al gently returned the embrace with one large arm encircling her shoulders. Hawkeye tightened her embrace for a second, then let go with a smile laced with maternal caring.

"I can't think of the last time Brother gave me a hug," Al said with a small chuckle.

"Men have a hard time expressing their emotions sometimes," Hawkeye said knowingly, with a joking grin.

"Like the Colonel?" Al asked, watching Hawkeye's smile disappear instantly. "I heard him yelling at you at the hospital." Hawkeye looked like she wanted to say something, but didn't as Al continued, "Does he know what happened, _all_ of what happened?"

"Nothing happened."

"Nothing happened? You didn't care if- no, you _wanted _to die when you heard he was dead, Lieutenant! That's not nothing." Al's words tumbled out. "He doesn't have the right to say such harsh things,"

"As a superior officer he is entitled to expect a certain level of-

"As a _human being_, he has no right to scold you like a child. Not when he doesn't know what happened,"

Hawkeye sighed heavily, gingerly working her temples with shaking hands. "In any case, he doesn't know, so-"

"So I'll tell him then." Al said simply. Hawkeye's arms dropped and she stared at Al with horrified shock. "He ought to know what happened. He should know how you feel-"

"How I feel…" Hawkeye finally stopped Al, "isn't the issue now."

"Maybe, just maybe, if things were different. Maybe, if we weren't up against an enemy whose only defining trait is a stubborn resistance to death. Maybe if I hadn't sworn to push him from beneath to his goals no matter what. Maybe, if he hadn't already lost someone he had allowed himself to get close to-"

Al flinched slightly. _Hughes…_ Hawkeye wasn't yelling, but she was very close to letting her emotions get the better of her composure.

"But, don't you want to be happy?"

Hawkeye scoffed bitterly at the question. Al had never seen that kind of expression on her face, but now it didn't seem at all out of place.

"At this point, Alphonse, I'm happy if the Colonel is safe. I used to think that pushing him to the top of the military was near impossible. But now, keeping him in one piece after a single mission seems like a major accomplishment" Pulling her jacket on and fixing her collar slightly, Hawkeye mustered a reassuring grin, "How I feel is going to have to take a second in priority for a while."

Walking towards the door with the evaluation in hand, she turned to Al, "Come on, Ed and the Colonel's tempers must have exhausted themselves by now,"

Not bothering to re-button her jacket, Hawkeye headed for Mustang's office with slow, even strides with Al following.

"I promise to keep this between us, Lieutenant," Al whispered, walking up next to her, "But I'm not going to let you make your suffering any worse. If I think it's too much and you haven't talked to the Colonel, I'll do it for you."

Hawkeye exhaled and frowned slightly, but didn't try to argue the point. _He just cares about you. You should feel grateful for that. Besides, I'm not going to let it become too much, right? I know better than that.

* * *

_

Slightly longer than an average chapter. The first chapter more focused on Hawkeye (in this slightly Hawkeye-centric fic, go figure)

Let me know how OOC you thought she got. I can't really tell anymore after all this writing.

Ed and Roy next, rejoice! Reviews, please and thank you! Goodnight!


	6. Chapter 6

Dare I call it part 2 of the previous chapter?

Does anybody really care? Nope. Let's get started. Once again, I overestimated the time it would take to get to the airport so this is delayed. I offer my apologies.

Anybody read chapter 61 yet? Granted, only the raw is out… but if you can read Japanese, then you will understand what I mean when I say: GOOD GOD IN HEAVEN!

For those of you who cant read the Japanese, it should be out later tonight… zomg fruit tree alchemist is almost done scanlating!

* * *

FMA is Arakawa-sensei's property.

* * *

Roy exhaled slowly, trying his best to find an excuse to shoo Ed out of his office. It had barely been 15 minutes since Ed came in, and the young alchemist had yet to even mention his report.

"Oh and another thing, _Colonel. _How about telling me about your little scheme with Lieutenant Ross, huh? Would it have been that horrible to let me in on the plan?"

"Well, we couldn't have you ruining the plan. It required absolute secrecy, and you have a tendency to be… _tactless_, when you get overly emotional."

"I don't want to hear it from you, Mustang! Correct me if I'm wrong, but you've got a 'tendency to be tactless' with your subordinates, right!" Ed shouted.

There was a sudden scraping of chairs and a stampede of footsteps outside Roy's door. His entire male staff had flung the door open and began hastily demanding permission to leave the office for various reasons. Not waiting for an affirmative response, the men slammed the door shut and the sound of running footsteps quickly left the room. Ed was still sneering at Mustang, but he had begun to sweat and his eyes seemed to quaver nervously.

"What was that, Fullmetal?"

"Y-you heard me. Al told me about how you ripped into Hawkeye because she didn't, for _once_ in her career, keep up her perfect soldier act. Damnit, Colonel! Is that how you treat the people who care about you!"

"How I treat my staff is none of your business!"

"Two things, Mustang. Firstly. _I am_ on your staff! I hate admitting it. But technically I fall under your jurisdiction. And second: It is my business if my brother is involved!" Ed took a deep breath and leaned back in the chair, flushed from all the yelling.

"You've got some nerve. I barely restrict your activity as a commanding officer. When have I ever kept you two from searching for the Philosopher's Stone?"

"Well, you're not exactly being helpful either," Ed seethed, "My brother is involved in some investigation-turned-battle involving secret military activity with captives from the 5th Laboratory. You end up running into a Homunculus, and four people are placed in immediate danger? All that trouble, just to find out about the real events of the 5th Lab? And following a lead from Barry the Chopper to do it? That reeks of the Philosopher's Stone. Too bad I was busy finding out what happened to Lieutenant Ross, the hard way. Why won't you just tell me how this is all connected? We have common enemies, Colonel!"

Roy had spent the bulk of Ed's outburst with his head resting in his hands. His elbows were resting on his desk, next to the forgotten report. Glaring at Ed from behind his fallen bangs, Roy muttered, "Of all days to have _this_ conversation, Edward. You couldn't have selected a worse time."

"I'm sorry, but I don't really care about your schedule. What was on your agenda today? Yelling at Havoc for getting himself crippled? Or maybe getting on Hawkeye's case again for, who knows, saving you from yourself again? Busy man, you are."

"Edward," Roy said into his hands, "I don't know what happened when you went with Armstrong, or when you visited Resembool. But something got you bent out of shape, and-"

"No, Colonel. All I did was confirm a few things. I reaffirmed hope for my brother," Ed drew a long breath before continuing at a more appropriate volume. "And what can you say for yourself? Recent events probably haven't left a healthy impact on your mental health." Staring at Roy with a determined gaze, Ed asked, "Why are you pushing people away?"

"Because it's dangerous," Roy responded icily. "I lost Havoc's service. And I'm grateful it's just his employment and not his life. Al didn't come out unharmed, did he?" Ed twitched slightly as Roy continued, "Hell, _I_ didn't get out unharmed," His hand was grabbing lightly at the material of his jacket, tempted to apply some pressure on his recovering wounds. "And Hawkeye? Damnit, that's twice in an evening she was almost taken away from me by those monsters."

Roy looked directly at Ed for the first time in awhile with bleary eyes, asking the boy seated in front of him a question.

"What If Al hadn't been there? What if I hadn't come? She practically followed me into the military. I'm not allowing any one of the people around me die before me. Never again."

Ed watched Roy run a hand through his hair in an agitated manner and proceed to knead his hands together on his desk.

"So talk to her."

"What?"

"Talk. To. Her. Tell her what you told me right now. Think of it as apologizing for the scolding. Just say that you were really upset and you didn't express yourself well. She won't have to stretch her imagination to believe that. You never articulate yourself well."

"Fullmetal. Never, ever, give me advise on how to handle women. That is an order."

"And you really know how to handle yourself around her?" Ed questioned with a grin. Before the argument could continue Al's footsteps were heard outside the door. "Well then, Colonel Shit, if you don't have any other business, then I'll just take my leave and—"

"Brother? Are you done?" Al inquired politely, following Hawkeye in "Oh, good day, Colonel" Al greeted with a bow as Hawkeye saluted. Roy saluted, greeted Al with a smile and a nod, and resumed glaring at Ed in under 7 seconds.

"You're dismissed, Fullmetal." Ed smiled and jumped out of the chair, following Al out the door. As Ed turned around, Roy shot a glance at Hawkeye and grinned childishly. His message was clear: _Watch this. _

"It's too bad we had to call the meeting _short—_" Roy yelled out the closing door.

"Who are you calling so short that—"

"Brother, let it go!"

"Sir, you shouldn't provoke him." Hawkeye said, not bothering to hide her amusement.

"But we'll catch up next time, and finish going over your report. Take a _little_ time off!"

"There was an explosion of Ed-like rage outside, then the metallic crashes that implied Al's dragging of his brother away from the door.

"I'm busy next week, but since this is of _small _import—" Roy's last comment was stopped by a hand over his mouth.

"Really, Sir. You might consider acting like a good role model for those boys." Hawkeye chided, slowly removing her hand from Roy's heated face. Outside more metallic clangs slowly faded out of earshot. All thoughts of bating Ed dissolved from Roy's thoughts.

"Your hands. They smell like gunpowder." He noted. Self-consciously, Hawkeye looked at her hands. They were slightly darkened with a black sheen of powder, giving off the sulfurous smell that Roy immediately associated with her.

"I'm sorry, Sir. I was—"

"Out at the shooting range. No doubt toiling to get your shot perfect, dissecting your evaluations. Am I right?" Watching her face, Roy didn't need an answer. "Lieutenant, sit down." Riza took the seat that Ed had occupied, straight spine and shoulders back. Ed had thrown himself into the back of the chair, slouching and supporting as little of his weight as he could. Roy removed himself from his desk chair and sat in the other seat next to Hawkeye, closing the distance between them significantly.

"As an alchemist, I'm a realist. And as a realist, I'm letting you know that it's impossible to attain perfection. Trying too hard is unhealthy."

"That's more along the lines of pessimism, Sir."

"What difference is there anymore?" Roy grinned darkly, amused and sickened by the horrible irony of the world.

"I want… to believe that there is a difference." Hawkeye said, rubbing lightly at the powder on her hands. "And I believe that what we're doing, what you're trying to accomplish, can make that happen." Roy looked at her, wanting to have the same conviction, wanting to be able to shake his skepticism and paranoia.

"Aren't you going to re-create the reality that's been forced upon us? Aren't you going to take it apart from the top? This reality. Where people of the same country can get away with destroying each other. Where people are manipulated and used as nothing more than raw materials. Where men like Hughes are removed for convenience." Riza reached over to the armrest of Roy's chair, barely brushing her fingers over the bandages over Roy's hand. "I think, that you sort of owe it to him."

"There's no way I can do that alone…" Roy muttered.

"Who said you would be alone?"

Roy smiled to himself, taking Hawkeye's hand in his own. Even through the gauze and medical tape, he could still feel heat radiating from her. Giving her hand a gentle squeeze, Roy stood up and helped Riza to her feet.

"There's no more work that needs doing. We can go home now." Wanting to sweep her off her feet, craving the opportunity to take her and run away from the country, Roy stood with their fingers intertwined. Instead he had to settle for a light kiss on her hand, a gesture of distant, gentlemanly manner. Releasing her hand, Roy added, "Get some rest." With a small nod and a quick salute, Hawkeye turned to grab her belongings.

"And I don't want you hung over tomorrow too." Roy called as he grabbed his coat.

"I don't find that statement amusing, Sir." He heard the jingle of keys and the opening and closing of drawers.

"I'm not trying to amuse you, Lieutenant. We have work to do yet."

* * *

Okay… much longer than planned. I tagged on a bit of almost-fluff for Nil… you were one of the people who asked for it, right? Or am I really confused? I could be…

New chapter in the next 2 days. More likely tomorrow.


	7. Chapter 7

Here we are at chapter 7.

A note on my entirely unnecessary AN's that I tag on the beginnings and ends of these installments:

Sorry about the confusion, Killa Pat and Nil… I mis-credited a review. Normally I would double check before writing review responses like that, but my internet wasn't really happy at that point in time.

And in terms of the projected length of this fic… that's a really good question. Unfortunately I can't exactly say for sure. I write from chapter to chapter, with some ideas of where I want the chapter to conclude and ideas to transition between sections. Depending on how the manga plot goes (yes, I do pull a lot of inspiration from the most recent FMA manga plot… ergo fanfiction.) this could go on for many more chapters… My guess is no less than… 15 chapters probably. Please don't hold me to that estimate… it could end up much longer or a tiny bit shorter.

If I owned FMA, then the movie would already be in theaters in the US of A.

* * *

The hideout was too dark, too old. Filled with the smell of decay, the dark corners were hiding things that Roy would rather not think about.

_This is ridiculous. It's just hasn't been kept up, an old house. Nothing more._

He wanted more lanterns, more candles. He wanted nothing more than to torch the whole building and leave it, a pile of ashes. A single snap. Roy felt out of place in this hideaway, felt like this was time being spent idle. The Elrics were off somewhere, keeping each other company while they waited. The Homunculus, Gluttony, confined in a room with walls too thin for Roy's comfort. He was standing in a hallway with Ling, the young prince from Xing, waiting outside the largest room in the cramped building.

That room. Currently Dr. Knox, with Hawkeye's aid, was working on Ran Fan. She was still a girl, faithfully working for one of the Elric's friends; a girl who had paid the price for ultimate dedication to a cause. Paid the same price that Ed had offered for his brother's soul. Who was more reckless? Who, if either, had the better deal? Roy's thoughts were scattered, morbid.

The room had been saturated with the smell of blood. Roy had stayed and watched at the beginning as the Dr. pulled tools from his bag. Hawkeye's hands helping to pull away the improvised tourniquet, applying pressure to the girl's shoulder. Her clean hands spattered with warm blood. The smell was everywhere. Roy almost stumbled out the door, taking deep breaths.

Time passed, Roy and Ling vaguely aware of each other's presence in the hallway, more aware of the people in the improvised operating room. Neither could find reason to strike up a conversation, to ease along the wait with small talk. The fall of heavy footsteps filtered into their consciousness. Ed and Al lumbered into the hallway and struck up a conversation with Ling. Roy turned the corner, giving the boys some privacy. Even if he wanted to listen, Roy's mind was too busy to do any kind of eavesdropping whatsoever. The only thing he heard at the end of the conversation was that Knox was finished.

Everyone had assembled in the room. Knox had excused himself, pulling out a pack of cigarettes with his cleaned hands. Hawkeye stood behind the small crowd gathered Ran Fan, toweling her hands dry.

"Can you keep watch outside?" Roy asked quietly, trying not to interrupt the silence in the room. She exited with a nod, tossing the dirty towel onto a small heap of stained rags. Not having anything to say to the recovering Ran Fan, Roy excused himself. He felt immensely better just knowing that a death had been prevented and the blood had been cleaned away. Approaching Ling, Roy ventured a greeting.

"She's strong."

"Yes. I consider myself honored to have her in my service. And, you are—"

"Roy Mustang, a Colonel of the National Armed Forces. I've heard about you from the Elrics." A handshake was exchanged, formalities taken care of.

"I am the twelfth son of the emperor of Xing, Ling Yao. I cannot thank you enough for finding a doctor." Ling bowed low.

"Well, I owe you one for your assistance with the case of Maria Ross." Roy smiled. It was refreshing to work with a young man with a decent upbringing and good manners; Ed's public behavior had a tendency to grate on his nerves after awhile.

"I consider myself lucky to have made ties with such a respectable member of the armed forces in Amestris. Even if the encounter was a secret one."

"And I can see great promise coming from having ties with the imperial family of Xing." Roy said with a grin. Ling smiled grimly, appreciating Roy's understanding in politics.

"You… you want something more than the title of Colonel, I take it?"

"I think what you and I want have many commonalities," Roy responded. If anyone had been listening, there would have been little indication to the revolutionary ideas harbored in the minds of the two. "I hope that even after all this is resolved, we can maintain a sense of partnership." Roy turned to leave, turning back to add, "If we cannot speak freely with each other again, then I wish you luck and offer my condolences for Ran Fan. Take good care of her."

He exited the decaying house and stepped into the cool night air. Roy stuck his hands into his jacket pockets and looked around at the woods surrounding him. Not seeing a single living thing in the clearing, Roy let out a long, low whistle, followed by several short high notes.

"That's entirely unnecessary, Sir."

Roy jumped and whipped around, trying to find the source of the voice he had just heard. Hawkeye saluted with an amused glint in her eyes, sitting on the roof with a rifle hanging off her shoulder.

"You can't be so sure. What if we had been surrounded? I tried to be stealthy, and use covert messaging systems. But you just gave away our position, Lieutenant. Now it's only a matter of time before we're swarmed and massacred."

"Keep your voice down, Sir." She chided, dropping her legs over the awning and jumping down next to Roy with a soft thump. Standing up straight and taking the rifle off her shoulder with a sigh, Hawkeye performed a full salute with the heel click and stiffened posture. Roy waved the salute off. "It's not like you to joke in situations like this."

"Situation like what?" Roy looked at her with mild surprise. "Do you know what we have locked up in that shack?"

"A Homunculus…" she answered.

"Yes. A creature whose core is the very Philosopher's Stone itself! With that kind of power, Havoc's legs could be fixed! We could take Bradley down effortlessly. Hell, the Elrics could be saved with that stone!" Roy grabbed Riza by the shoulders with something that might have been a skip. "So many problems could be solved! Think about it, Lieutenant!"

"It's really not like you to get your hopes up like this." She responded, unmoving in Roy's grasp.

"I know." Roy responded, his voice softening, "And to be honest, I don't really believe what I just said anyway. I don't believe it could be so easy to solve all our problems. But I wanted some sort of reassurance I suppose, some kind of encouragement that what we're doing is having some kind of positive effect." Roy's hand slid off Riza's shoulder and lightly ran through her hair, toying with the golden strands. "I want some proof that we're making progress after all the struggle and effort you've put into it, so you can see that it wasn't in vain."

"Do you really think I'm that fragile?"

"Do you think I should think that you're fragile?"

"Roy Mustang. You ought to know me better than to think that slow progress towards a goal would damage my morale. I can handle myself in adverse situations just as well as you can. There isn't room in this job to be fragile." She spoke with conviction, without hesitation or doubt in her words. "But."

"But?" Roy questioned, watching her eyes soften and her shoulders sag in exhaustion.

"But, I don't think I could stand on my own in times like these." she murmured, stepping into Roy's arms and loosely wrapping her arms around his waist, resting her cheek on his chest. The rifle fell, forgotten, into the grass with a rustle. Roy smiled to himself, holding Riza closer and sighing contentedly, the smell of violets and gunpowder filling his nostrils.

"I guess I'm a little more fragile than I thought."

"I don't mind, Lieutenant. We'll get through this, okay? I swear I won't leave you. That is, if you want to stay by my side."

"More than anything."

* * *

This chapter was entirely unplanned, and felt scattered. As I was working on chapter 8 (which I had planned on making chapter 7) I felt like there was a whole lot I was skipping over in terms of the manga plot. So I decided to stick this in here. To be honest… I'm not entirely sure if I like it. Maybe I'll come back and change it/delete it someday. But I guess I'll let you all be the judge of that. 


	8. Chapter 8

Awwwright, chapter 8!

This chapter could have been up like a week ago, if it weren't for a small problem. My keyboard decided that, after years of faithful service, it would be funny to break overnight. Do you have any idea how hard it is to type without the entire top row of letters? You're probably at a computer if you're reading this… take a look down at that row of letters and imaging trying to write without them (especially those 4 vowels...)

And more fun news (not). We're doing work on our house in the computer room area, so odds are I will be without Internet for a week, maybe more. I promise to have a new chapter for you all when I'm back online though… sorry in advance for the delays.

Anyways… here is the actual chapter.

* * *

I'm not worthy of owning FMA.

* * *

Roy sat in the car, tapping his foot impatiently. Getting annoyed with the sound his boot was making, he stopped himself. As soon as he was sitting still he began wringing his hands, drumming his fingers together, and shooting glances at the apartment building outside the car window. He had been waiting for 2 and a half minutes, and the brief time alone had got his anxiety worked into a frenzy. He felt like a wreck.

After dropping Dr. Knox and Ran Fan off, Mustang and Hawkeye immediately began planning their next move. They automatically clicked into their places: superior and subordinate, a force of habit after many years. Despite the disastrous undercover mission and encounter with Gluttony, both soldiers mindlessly slipped into a 'business as usual' mindset. The only problem was their disheveled appearances and complete lack of plan.

Which is why Roy was currently fidgeting in the passenger seat of the car while Hawkeye ran into her apartment to do something about her appearance. Roy's silver pocket watch confirmed that Hawkeye had now been gone for 3 minutes. Snapping the mechanism shut with more effort than necessary, Roy slouched into his chair and tried to calm himself down.

_It's only 3 minutes. HQ isn't going anywhere. It only seems like **forever** because I'm thinking about this too much. I just need to calm down…_

With one hand over his damaged side and the resting in his lap, Roy slipped into a meditative calm. An instant after he had finally settled his nerves, the sound of a door closing on itself and heavy footsteps sounded outside the car.

Still pulling one hand into the sleeve of her jacket, Hawkeye almost ran to the car and opened the door, stuck the key in the engine, and tugged experimentally at her holster in one fluid motion.

_Her hair is out of the bun still… _Roy thought to himself. Being in a rush at Roy's command, Hawkeye had left her jacket open and collar crooked. Her hair was tied back in a long ponytail, which was splayed over her shoulder in a manner that didn't suggest sloppiness, but practicality. Watching her flip her hair off her shoulder in a golden wave with a turn of her head, Roy continued to ponder Riza's hair. _I wonder if she wears it down like this often. Maybe around the house? Out on errands?_

During this fraction of a moment, Riza started the car, keeping a brake on the humming engine. Roy watched silently.

"To your place then, Sir?"

"Yes."

Her wrist moved the gearshift resolutely, setting the car into first gear as the engine hummed to life.

"After the Homunculus?" She asked evenly, expectantly, as she pushed the car into second then third gear.

"After Bradley." Roy responded, "be he human or monster. I did warn you that it was going to get harder from here on out, didn't I?"

"Yes Sir."

"You sure you're ready, sure you're willing to-"

"You're asking such things now?"

"Heh, sorry. I guess I know the answer already, don't I?" Roy said, trying to sound less concerned than he was. A silence descended on the two.

"Do you remember when we used to have nothing to do?" Riza suddenly asked, taking the car around a corner with a quick spin of the wheel.

"When the only field work was the occasional terrorist attack? Damn, it seems like the Elrics came with more trouble than we bargained for." He said with a laugh.

"Do you… regret going to Edward, Sir?" Hawkeye asked, slowing the car to a halt in front of Roy's place.

Roy sat unmoving from the seat, pondering over the question that his Lieutenant had asked him. "I've never even thought about it before." Roy sat a little further back in his seat as Hawkeye shut the engine off. "Some part of me… wants to believe that ultimately it will all work out. We get to the bottom of all this mystery. We expose all the wrongs of the military. We see to it that everyone's sacrifice and struggle wasn't in vain. Hell, I could even see Fullmetal with a body of flesh and blood," he was smiling to himself now, "But I have no clue what Alphonse would look like. I don't know what to expect besides a suit of armor."

"He'll have a contagious smile," Hawkeye said softly, "that much I know."

"You want to know if I regret bringing the Elrics and our team together? I'd give anything to make it so I won't regret it. With all the losses we've suffered, it's hard to say that I don't regret what started in Resembool all those years ago. I guess… I guess I'll know if I regret it when it's over." Roy said, looking out at the empty streets. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant. That didn't really answer your question, did it?"

"No, don't be sorry." Hawkeye said with her gaze fixed ahead.

"I'll go get changed. I wont be long." Roy said as he unbuckled and opened the door. "Don't you go anywhere, Lieutenant." He said before closing the car door.

"I wouldn't leave you, Sir."

* * *

Roy trotted to the waiting car, double-checking his pyrotechnic gloves in his pocket. Opening the door and sitting down, Roy ran a hand through his dark hair with a sigh, "Drive."

Hawkeye started the car and pulled away from the curb, closing the distance to HQ. Roy sat and watched the city roll past outside his window.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"Don't regret the choice you made."

Roy turned to Riza, who was focused on the street ahead. "Don't regret bringing justice to this rotting government. Don't regret giving the Elrics a chance to regain what they lost. If Equivalent Exchange governs the world, then I have no doubt you'll be satisfied with the results of your efforts. Besides, I'm sure Hughes doesn't regret his choice, and he wouldn't want you to either."

"I'm glad I have your support, Hawkeye."

"It's my job, Sir."

Roy settled into his seat, feeling strangely at ease. Even though they were discussing Hughes, he wasn't consumed with grief. They had no clue what they were headed for, but as long as they were together, Roy knew he could count on her support and protection. It didn't matter what kind of danger came their way, he would personally keep her safe from any and all threats.

As the walls of HQ came into view, Roy's mind immediately began formulating a strategy. Nodding a greeting to the guards posted at the gate, Roy stepped out of the car and pulled on a pair of plain white gloves.

"First we confirm allies and enemies. We do what we can to gain more support in the ranks. The fact that the Fuhrer may be a Homunculus should have some influence on people's loyalties." He heard Hawkeye checking the safeties on her guns, and turned to see her twist her hair gracefully into the usual bun, snapping the clip into place. No trace of the golden waves that he had been eying all evening remained.

"There's no guarantee that Gluttony has revealed us yet, so we need to be cautious." Straightening his colder and taking a deep breath, Roy turned towards the massive building. "Wait by the car, Lieutenant."

"Sir!" He heard her heels snap into a salute behind him. As he took his first step towards the gate, Roy suddenly felt cold. _What am I getting myself into? _He tried to attribute his sudden sense of fright to something, realizing that this was the first time he had gone into known enemy territory without Hawkeye trailing close behind him._ What if something **does **happens to me?_ _Who will protect her if I'm gone?_

"If something happens," Roy turned and called back, his calm voice covering his fears, "You get away from here alone."

"I don't want to." She replied, her face as stoic as Roy's mask.

"That's an order." _Please, Hawkeye._

"I cannot consent to that." She said simply.

"Stubborn, aren't you? Even if you can't stomach the order, you have to swallow it." _No. **Please** don't do this. Not now…_

"I like to think that I have resolve in my beliefs." She said, suggesting that she had nothing more to discuss.

"I'm glad I have a subordinate with a strong will like you." Roy consented, feeling his stomach tightening. "I promise, I'll come back, so you wait there." He turned and kept walking.

"I wouldn't leave you, Sir." He stopped in his tracks and thought about turning back, about staying by her side. Instead, he ignored his gut feeling and just waved back, entering HQ alone.

"I wish you luck." He heard her call after him before the gates shut, cutting him off from her presence. With grim determination, Roy walked deeper into HQ with his promise trailing behind him where his Lieutenant was supposed to be.

* * *

Ho hum. Done. Clearly I twisted some dialogue in chapter 50. The miracle that is poetic license… or artistic license, whichever it is. Chapter 9 comes whenever it happens… hopefully within 7 days? Don't hold me to that, I have no idea how long they will be working on my poor house. Reviews make me happy. If this story makes you happy, don't you think it's fair to return the favor? Equivalent exchange, baby! 


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